Sir - contentment

I cook him a beautiful dinner, fresh, vibrant, full of big tastes. I Fix his drink, light his cigarettes.

I patter around our house in my lingerie. Black lace, straps of satin, nylon stockings, smoothing, accentuating, a sculpture in desire. 

I want to be perfect to him, a feast for his senses and desires. 

He stretches out on the sofa and plays old albums. Leonard Cohen, folky love songs. I sit on the floor at his feet. 

I rest my head on his lap. He strokes my soft dark hair and sings along to the music. 

He looks so content. So happy.  He's  warm and relaxed. I've made him this way. Good slave, good girl. 

Neil

We're in your flat, drinking whiskey. Kissing, smoking, bubbling energy, we fuck, too drunk to do it right. We fall asleep together. 

The morning comes. I'm up, awake, the sun is shining through the thin curtains. I can taste sweet woodiness in my mouth, my head throbs. I can feel you hard, pushing against me. Nudge nudge. Maybe in a minute. I rub my eyes, get up, go get myself a glass of water. Still a little cut. I get back into bed with you. 

We're pretty comfortable around each other, we've always had a spark, now you're not with her anymore, we can fuck how we want, just straight sex. I think your heart is breaking just a bit, I know you miss her. A warm woman's body is what you need to hold. I'm willing skin. I like you and I like attention. 

You're affection, good with your hands, you're stroking my body. I take you in my mouth. I'm wet. Take me instead? You fuck me really hard, you've got one of those cock's that just finds the sweet spot. You make me come so easily, you orgasm as well. 

We spend most of the day in bed together, touching, talking, kissing. You start to slowly tease and tweak my breasts. This sort of thing I like. This eager build up.  I need to fuck around again. I can feel myself wet and wanting. You trail your hand down my stomach, run it over my thighs. Lean in to kiss me, I push against your mouth in desperate desire. You pull back, taunt and tease. Your fingers find the space. I need to come so badly. You push the digits into me. Yes. Please. Stretch me. You keep bringing me up, holding me there, that point, stopping, kissing me, taunting me. 

My frustration oozes from my pours,  a bead of sweat drips down my neck. I'm hot. Im flushed. I'm flustered.

"Please for god's sake let me come. Please don't make me beg you". 

You smile at me. Slide your fingers back into my flesh. Thrust,  push, fuck me with your hand. I gush, squirt, come, climax, whatever you want to call it and fuck its good, brain wiping. You go to remove your fingers, I yelp a piteous...

 "No". 

It sounds like anguish. 

You reinsert them quickly. Bang bang, thrust, twist, fuck, hold me there. The pleasure fractures like a sheet of glass. Sweet honey taste in my throat, breathing ragged. Spent out. 

You lay down next to me, put your hand on my ribs, stroke the white flesh over the bone, run it down my stomach, in a squirming gooey mess. You pull me in, kiss my soft and breathless mouth. Affection, sweet and faint, a ghost of an emotion that you had for someone else. A whisper of a near past. You stroke me, the smoothness of my skin. Tender and desirable. A woman's body, soft and warm and yielding. 

The cyclist - happy

I'm kneeling, taking him deep into my mouth, he's running his hands through my hair and twisting it in his fingers. I'm covered in drool. His palm trails down my back, over the curve of my bottom and he reaches between my legs. Wet, hot, aching to be touched. He rubs his fingers over me, wish washing back and forth. I'm away. Enjoying his flesh. Giving him pleasure, we fuck, I come quickly, it's good, a steady improvement in skill. 

I ask him if he'll let me make him come in my mouth. He gladly exhales a yes. Open, hot, wet mouth, firm strokes with my hand, urging him into ecstasy. Come for me. I owe you one, well no I owe you several. He's so hard, twitching, I hear his breath begin to stutter. White fluid, stroke and lick it all out. Yum. My mouth is covered, my lips are chalky. I lick them. Happy and satisfied. Happy, good. Are you happy? Good. 

(The Cyclist) A smile on your face

He's stroking my body, gently, softly, the way I like it.

He's trying to get me to tell him jokes. as he manipulates my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Im struggling to string a sentence together, trying to tell some silly thing about a Rabbi and a Priest eating a sandwich. He thinks this is a very funny game, I usually mix it a little stronger but its certainly familiar, he's playing with a little power, teasing me... it's making me wet.

His touching is insistent, I unbutton my jeans, pull them down. His hand reaches between my legs and he begins to stroke me. I am dripping. He rubs and I start to spread out into that endless pool of pleasure. Expressions roll across my face like ripples in the water. Smiles, breathless pouts, a furrowed brow. Give me more.

He talks to me "I bet you can't tell me any jokes now".

I respond "I bet you can't tell me any either"

His thrusts and strokes become more insistent. I ask if he'll stretch me, push harder, I tell him that I like it when it hurts a little. He pauses then obliges me. He can sense the desperation. I mumble deafly.

"So, so wet, this feels so good".

He "mmms" at me.

"If you keep doing this I'll come for you"

Its a good incentive. He thrusts, I buck and touch and do my best to keep as quiet as I can. The contractions hit and the pleasure follows, convulsing, aching, pulsing. I clench his fingers inside me, flush with colour, my hands shake.

My breath is gone, faltering, back, heavy. I beg him to stop. He yanks his fingers from me and I gush onto the bed. Lay still. Still still. I pull his hand to my lips and lick his fingers clean. Stroke them across my mouth and down my neck, briefly hold them.

He has to go. Fair enough.

"Thank you"

"No problem. I wanted to put a smile on your face".

Mei

He runs his thumb up the bridge of my nose, over my brow and down the side of my cheek. He smiles at me, pulls me towards him. He rests his forehead gently against mine, i catch his eye, look down, he lifts me, begins to trace his lips across mine, so softly. A kiss, gentle and tentative. 

His thumb slides down the side of my neck, we continue to kiss, and he coils his fingers around my throat. He pushes me backwards. Quickly. Pins me to the wall. He starts to kiss me raggedly. More aggression. My cheek is pushed flat to the wall. He gnaws at my neck, runs his tongue up and down its white pulsing expanse, he pushes the flat of his palm against my collar bone and squeezes tightly. I can feel my pulse against his fingers. His grip is strong. Arousing and unsettling. 

He finds my lips. Kisses more, again and again. I am breathing raggedly, my cunt aches and pulses. He pulls at my clothes, I was dressed to leave. Not anymore. He yanks down my top, my underwear, exposes my breasts, pale and stark. He takes a nipple in his mouth, sucks hard, bites. 

I am getting wet, I am off in my own half conscious world of pleasure, he has the power, he controls the air. Keep it that way, keep choking me, make me melt. I moan into his mouth as he brings his lips back up to mine. 

He lets go of my neck and I draw in a heavy breath, my legs feel weak and worthless. I smirk at him. 

Where are we? 

What are we doing?

Do I want more than this?

Do you?  

I tell him I should go, work, early, I rearrange my clothes. He doesn't try to stop me. Why doesn't he try to stop me? We reach the front door and kiss again, softly now. The passion flickers like an ember. I want to stay, whats stopping me? I break the kiss, look up at him, touch his cheek, and watch him watching me. I say goodbye and walk off into the night. 

The cyclist

We've been chatting for a while, dating almost. A lotta cups of coffee, stolen time, walks in the park. 

It makes me feel green, like a teenager, its fun. We kiss tentatively, you're a little clumsily. 

We finally got to fuck today.  I spent a long time sliding you in and out of my mouth. It's effortless and easy. You seem appreciative. At one point you grip my head and push me down onto your cock. Excitement flickers in my groin. This smells like potential. You don't hold me there for too long. 

When you touch me it's a little rough. I tell you to go easy. You do and then you lick me and its smooth and good. 

After a while I ask if you'll fuck me, you seem surprised I asked and oblige me. 

It lacks a little in skill but you're excited and it feels good enough and I come. 

After wards I'm lying next to you. You slide your hand between my legs and stroke me. It feels delicious. I close my eyes and enjoy it. I can feel you watching my face as you touch me. My eyes are closed, pleasure rippling across my expression. You must like creating happiness. You do it well.

You seem to like me. I didn't have time to give back as I had to get to work. You didn't seem to mind. I know you like me. I know you'll want me again. 

Thursday Evening

I'm on my knees, sucking him, as instructed, he is cruelly twisting the lips of my cunt, digging his nails into my flesh. Hurting me. Im covered in spit. Doing my best to keep calm and carry on. He twists and stretches and pinches. 

He decides to start pulling apart the cheeks of my bottom. He tries to jam his fingers into my dry little arse hole. He's splitting skin. Im bleeding. I squeak and bleat pitifully, my mouth full of cock and drool. I can feel him pulsing harder every time he causes me pain. He's a sick fuck. Its one of the many things I like about him.